


The Right Woman

by BroltaAMaga



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 23:18:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13200690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroltaAMaga/pseuds/BroltaAMaga
Summary: More of my "LoveSmut". (see my profile for an explanation)I wrote this right after watching the episode where Ivar tries to have sex with Margrethe and before the episode with the slave Freydis approaching and touching Ivar in the York church. Just like that episode, I just imagined all Ivar needed was the right woman to prove he wasn't impotent. I think a lifetime of assuming he was, of being considered weaker than his able-bodied brothers and women shunning him simply gave him performance anxiety. When I wrote this, I didn't know about the tag Y/N for "your name" and I LOVE nordic names, so I enjoyed researching to find Svala. Feel free to use "Y/N" if it makes you smile.





	1. The Stirring

Ivar was trapped, as always, lying on a battlefield, his cart turned over, his horse dead and he was lying there, vulnerable, with the enemy closing in. Just as two Saxon soldiers got within inches of stabbing him through with their long swords, he woke with a gasp and a jerk, sweating, swearing.  
“Sir?” Svala’s voice drifted through the pre-dawn light like an angel’s, in such stark contrast to the clash of metal and men screaming in his dream that Ivar almost wept out of relief. He leaned up on an elbow and squinted, trying to make out her approaching shape, but she had not risen yet, he realized, registering the distance between him and he small voice. She was still in the other room, the kitchen area where she made a pallet for herself by the hearth.  
“I’m fine,” Ivar answered, embarrassed but regretting instantly his flat, dismissive tone. He pictured her rising, entering his bedroom, her blond hair loose about her shoulders, her lithe arms reaching back to pull her dress strings and her simple servant’s dress falling to the floor in a puddle. Her voice again jolted him out of his own mind.  
“I’m up anyways Sir, and it’s nearly morning. Breakfast?”  
Ivar cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind of the new thought of burying his face between her thighs and devouring her in his bed for his first meal.  
“Yes. Thank you, Svala,” he croaked, forcing himself to add something pleasant at the end. He watched stealthily through the doorway as she weaved her hair into a quick, tidy braid and left to fetch some water and firewood. He collapsed onto his bed with a frustrated sigh. She had only been his servant for two months now and thoughts of her had been coming to him more and more often lately. He was terrified that one night, one of the nightmares would be replaced with a passionate dream about her and instead of crying out in fear, he’d reveal himself to her with a lusty growl of her name and his desires. 

He scrunched up his face in frustration and anger at the thought, knowing even if she returned his attraction, he could never please her. That one humiliating night with Margreth had proven that. As if it wasn’t bad enough his legs never worked, neither did his cock. It was a limp, useless, daily reminder he’d never fully be a man. He wished desperately his mind could follow suit and forget about Svala. And his fingers, he thought, clenching them at the thought of stroking her long, lean sides as she sat astride him, then grabbing fistfuls of her long, loose hair as she pushed her hips against his, then them reaching around and cupping her round ass. As he lay there in bed, feigning sleep, for once he didn’t fight off the daydream and he’d let himself fantasize about her longer than he’d ever had. He suddenly felt the oddest sensation in his lap just then, one he’d never felt before, a small pressure, just a flutter really. It was so tiny he almost didn’t believe it had happened.  
“Here you are, sir.” Svala set down his breakfast with a small clatter and his eyes flew open, the odd sensation in his groin instantly gone, darted away like a scared fish.  
“Thank you.” He wanted her to stay, but didn’t know what to do or say.  
Many young Viking slept with their help and had anyone else been her master, Ivar knew she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d grabbed her hand, pulled her down to his bed and had his way with her. A thought struck him then that saddened him. Maybe that’s why she’d accepted the job last month, she knew he was the one man in the village her purity was safe with. He’d heard Old Bolverk, a man of nearly seventy had also been looking for a new slave after his last wife died, but Svala had chosen Ivar instead. Bolverk was known for his prowess on the battlefield and in bed, having survived many battles and fathered seven healthy sons and a beautiful daughter. His wife had actually died bringing the eighth son, and from what Ivar heard, he was a weak, spindly thing that people were saying should be taken into the woods and left to die. The people had said it right in front of Ivar, and he’d steeled every muscle in his body to not flinch. He couldn’t let them know how words like that affected him, couldn’t show another ounce of weakness. It was his father Ragnar’s greatest curse and gift to him that he hadn’t let him die in the forest too. Ha, thought Ivar now, he wondered if Ragnar would have made the same choice knowing he’d doomed his son to a life of frustrated chastity, not just the inability to fight and the pain of stares and whispers as he pulled himself along his belly through the streets of Kattegat. 

“Are you all right, Sir?” Svala’s melodic voice pulled Ivar from his thoughts and he realized he’d been staring off into space. He laughed it off, smiled at her. She smiled back, almost flirtatiously he thought? and as she leaned over near his bed he caught a flash of her creamy breast through the front slit of her dress. He shook his head, glanced away, but again his body had that odd pressure below his waist again, and it had now built to a faint throbbing. What in the hell was going on, he wondered. Svala had always been careful to be very demure and innocent around him and his body had not once ever tempted him with the briefest whisper of a sexual reaction to any woman. He still had eyes and a brain though and of course many beautiful women had enticed him… but he always shoved the thought away, knowing it was useless and would end in embarrassment and pain. But something lately had been different with Svala. And until this morning, all his desires for her had been fully in his head. But the way Svala was puttering around his room this morning, bending over slowly as she tidied up was suddenly fascinating to him. It was as if every sense was heightened- he heard the swish of her bare feet on the dirt floor, noticed the soft way she hummed, and even felt electric sparks zip through the hairs on his arms as she flipped her long braid from one shoulder to the other. He was watching her ass intently as she left and the fleshy noise her hip made as it bumped the doorway on the way out made the blood go from pounding in his head, rushing through his all the veins in his chest and pooling in his lap. He certainly wasn’t anywhere near fully hard- Gods, no, he couldn’t even imagine that, but even the gentle stirring down there was something to be marveled at after all these years of nothing. He looked over at the leg braces the blacksmith had made for him and wondered about them suddenly. It had only been a month since he’d gotten them and he was still unsteady, but maybe somehow the actual act of standing on two legs like a man was making him more of one… not just in terms of physical presence and height and power, but internally as well- of the blood and muscles being used properly, the way it was supposed to be for a Viking male. And even beyond that, the spirit of being a fully masculine being, the force behind it, the desire to please women, to spread one’s seed. Ivar quickly scarfed up his breakfast, eager to put the braces back on and get some more practice. He and Hvitserk were going to spar in the meadow today and he couldn’t wait to kick his brother’s ass. 

In the meadow, Hvitserk was waiting, leaned against a tree with a satisfied smile on his face. Ivar still sometimes needed a cane, especially on the uneven forest ground, but he was getting faster and more balanced. He noticed too, that the faster he went, the easier it was to balance. However, he also fell hard and often worried he would break an arm or bash his teeth out.  
“What are you smiling at brother?” Ivar asked. Hvitserk grinner larger and Ivar cocked his head.  
“Oh nothing. Ready?” Hvitserk took a ready battle stance, sword extended. Ivar mirrored him, dropping his cane. Hvitserk lunged, struck first and Ivar quickly defended himself, the blades clashing together, breaking the silence of the forest. Hvitserk held back, Ivar knew that and appreciated the patience his brother was having with him, letting him learn almost all over again as if he was a child of five, not a man of almost eighteen. Ivar knew though the gesture was partially to help ensure their win in battle with one more able bodied soldier, but also involved partly a bit of gloating over his crippled brother not ever being able to be as fast as him. It reminded Hvitserk he was better than Ivar. Ivar could see it in his eyes and wanted to punch him for it. 

It was bad enough that his eldest brother Ubbe had married Margrethe after the night she’d completely emasculated Ivar, but Ivar knew now that Ubbe had allowed Hvitserk to share their marriage bed and Ivar suspected the smile on Hvitserk’s face was from a night of rolling around, pleasuring that spiteful bitch. Ivar should have killed her that night, no Viking would have challenged his right to after how she’d treated him. But his brothers all loved her and they would have made him pay. Well, he’d taken care of Sigurd, hadn’t he?  
“How’s it working out with Svala?” Hvitserk asked casually after they’d finished sparring and were resting against the tree.  
“You stay away from her!” Ivar spat out, surprising himself with his rage and protectiveness. Hvitserk raised his eyebrows, then chuckled.  
“Don’t worry brother, I was just asking. I’m not interested in her.”  
Ivar forced his rage to cool, clearing his throat.  
“She’s mine.” He answered evenly, in a low measured voice. “She’s a great servant and you can find your own. Besides, aren’t you happy sharing Margrethe with Ubbe? He gets to call her his wife, and you get to fuck his leftovers,” Ivar said smirking. Hvitserk shoved Ivar hard on the shoulder and Ivar was glad for the tree behind him or he would have toppled over.  
“At least I can fuck her at all,” Hvitserk shot back and Ivar felt his cheeks burn. He looked down, knowing he had no card to play here. Hvitzerk softened.  
“But you’re right, Ivar. I am getting sick of the arrangement. Besides, Ubbe really wants her to have a child and it will get too confusing if his fatherhood is questioned.”  
Ivar felt his chest tighten at the word fatherhood. Something else he’d never enjoy, the knowledge your seed in a woman had grown into your child, your lineage, that you would not leave this world untouched by your presence.  
“What will you do?” Ivar asked.  
“I’ve got my eye on a few ladies,” Hvitserk smiled again and winked. “I’ll pick one of them soon and move out. Come on, let’s go. Good job today. You’re getting stronger and faster. I barely have to hold back at all.” He smiled amicably at Ivar and Ivar felt himself actually smiling honestly back. It was nice not having to constantly fall short amongst his family and all the Vikings. Hvitserk tossed an arm around him and they walked back to the village. 

As Ivar approached his house, he felt his nerves prickle. Was this morning a total fluke? What would his body do around Svala now? He strode through the crowds, loving the feeling of walking tall and powerfully amongst them, having the other men nod at him respectfully, pat him on the shoulder in greeting… and feeling from the looks of the women, even the classier, demure ones furtively admiring his strong form as he passed. He tried his hardest not to limp. The best part, the biggest change was the children, the young Viking boys looking up to him, rather than down at him curiously in the dirt. Adults had been respectful enough of who his father was to look away when he wiggled past like a worm, but the children had always bothered him greatly, staring, mouths open, eyes wide until an elder cuffed them on the ear and scolded them to look away. He found himself actually smiling at people now, ruffling young boys’ hair and he felt human. He was brimming with confidence as he turned down the path to his house.


	2. I Notice You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar's body continues to confuse and excite him around his new servant.

Gods save him. As he approached the open door, he heard scrubbing and knew as he turned inside what he’d see would slay him. Sure enough as he entered the doorway, he found Svala, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, the curves of her lovely behind bobbing just below him. Sure enough, his formerly useless cock twitched in his pants and he sucked in his breath. He cringed knowing she’d stop at the sound of his arrival. She did stop, but his heart nearly exploded when she didn’t stand up, but simply curved her neck around to look up at him. With her back arched like that and the slow smile she gave him, he nearly fell over like when Hvitzerk had shoved him. As her master, he could have justifiably beaten her for not standing up respectfully when he entered the home, but he found himself grateful for her seeming lack of respect and he smiled broadly back. She did stand up at that and took his sword from him and placed it in the hooks by the door. To his amazement, his felt the softer inner leather of his pants brush against his- could he call it manhood?- as it twitched again and even, no, could it be? swelled slightly when Svala’s hand brushed his own? What a queer feeling, Ivar thought… to feel suddenly ten feet tall around a woman and then also terrified as a mouse around her, not knowing what to do, or what his body would do next. Would it fail him again, dash all his hopes that this sudden, small change had brought about recently? The thought was crushing and he grunted at her warm hello and strode past her brusquely. 

“Sir?” Svala was confused and a bit hurt at his brushing her off, but she  
quickly hid it well and went to pour him some ale.   
“You look parched.” She held out the cup and he softened at her sweet, eager face. He took it from her and she seemed relieved at his happiness. He took a sip then looked at her.   
“Svala?”  
“Yes, sir?”   
“You can call me Ivar.” She blushed and looked at her feet.   
“Oh no, sir. I couldn’t. You’re, you’re-“ she stammered.   
“I’m what?” he took a step towards, her, tried to make his eyes as tender and non threatening as he could, which was tough being completely unnatural for him ever since he was a child. His nature was to be defensive and bitter but with her he wanted to try kindness. Svala couldn’t bear to finish the sentence.   
“I’m what? Ragnar Lothbrok’s son? Grandson of Brunehilde?” he ventured.

Svala shook her head and Ivar marveled at that. That was usually his only power in life, his powerful, legendary lineage. His member twitched again and gave him a surge of courage. Could it be, she simply was in awe of him? He reached out and put a hand on her small shoulder. She sighed and he felt the tension in her shoulders release and she practically melted into his strong hand. Ivar reveled in the feel of her petite, feminine frame in just his palm and found himself yearning for more of her in his hands, more of her against him. He leaned in closer, eyes soft, voice low and as sweet as he could manage.   
“Do you know what Svala means?”   
She shook her head again, looking at her feet still, but then raised her soft blue eyes through her thick lashes.   
“Bird.”   
She smiled at that. He squeezed her shoulder. 

“You’re like that. Sweet, quiet, small and birdlike. You flit about here and there, doing your work and most people don’t really notice you, do they?”   
Svala kept her eyes on Ivar’s. His pulse was pounding again and he got so lost in her eyes he barely noticed the stirring below his waist had gotten stronger still.   
“No, they don’t,” she practically squeaked. She took a deep breath and Ivar watched as her small chest heaved. He could make out the faint outline of a nipple through her dress and oh Gods how he longed to take one of those in his mouth and worship it while she shook like a small bird beneath him.   
“Well I do,” Ivar offered, his voice husky but gentle. “I notice you, Bird.” 

Svala tilted her chin upwards, parted her lips and before Ivar knew what he was doing, he had pulled her firmly against him, pounced on her mouth, his lips meeting hers with force, but met so equally and warmly with hers that the force soon liquified into a slow, soft heat. He started to feel his legs weaken under him, but it was the strangest sensation. Physically, they felt stronger than ever, like they could hold Thor himself, like his femur bones were made of iron but the skin and muscle had turned to molten gold. They pulsed and pounded with blood surging through them and he felt like he could run if he wanted to, jump and launch himself through the forest like his brothers always had as children. But he didn’t want to run right now. He wanted to stay right here with Svala, kissing her, running his hands over her and feeling close to normal for the first time in his life. She was making the most amazing little sounds as he kissed her, moans and sighs, and Ivar struggled to stay sane in her presence. Svala moved her hands instinctively from his arms down across his chest and his stomach. Her hands started to travel across his hipbones and over the tops of his thighs, but Ivar stopped her. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on with his cock lately but he wasn’t sure if he wanted her to feel it just yet. He desperately wanted to tear off their clothes and find out what his body could do, but the fear of failure was still too strong. He gently grabbed her wrists. She pulled away gently, looked questioningly at him. He fumbled for an answer. 

“Not yet, Bird. I- I, I need to go slowly. Here, help me…” She nodded, maybe not understanding fully but lovingly wanting to do what he needed, wanting to be patient for him. Ivar’s heart now twitched at her tenderness, her gentleness. He limped as nobly as he could to his bed, her arm under his, helping support him. He collapsed onto the bed and she went to her knees, hands to his braces. He smiled tenderly at her as she unfastened the leather buckles that held them in place and he groaned as she took them off. As wonderful as they were, they were dreadfully heavy and constrictive. Also his muscles weren't used to being upright and moving so much. His legs ached deeply once they were off. Svala seemed to sense all of this and after placing the braces gently on the ground, she went quickly to Ivar’s legs, massaging them skillfully and he fell onto his back, half in relief at her nimble fingers removing his soreness, half in ecstasy simply at her touch. He closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure. 

“My mother always did this for my father, after battle,” she explained. “She always got some oil and worked it all over him. He was a good fighter, so he lived a long time and the older he got, the more he needed it.”   
“Well I’m not old and I wasn’t in battle today,” Ivar said, huffing out his breath, feeling a little ashamed at his weakness after just a little sparring, a short walk and a passionate kiss.   
“The way I see it, Sir, you battle everyday. You fight harder than any man in all of Norway. You fight just to be seen as equal. You fight and then you fight some more, for the things they all take for granted. You deserve a good rest and a good woman to take care of you.” She said the last bit shyly and Ivar felt his heart warm again. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her.   
“You’re a good woman and I’m lucky to have you here.” 

Svala blushed with pride at that, then stood up and reached into a small cabinet. She brought out a small bottle of yellowish oil.   
“Take off your shirt,” she told him, then blushed and added “Please, Sir.”  
Ivar did, pulling his shirt from his muscular upper body. Svala hiked up her dress a bit and kneeled behind him. He knew he was imposing here- all the years of dragging himself around had built an impressive torso. He looked over his shoulder at her and surged with pride again as Svala hid a small, impressed smile as she went to work on his back and arms with the oil. He closed his eyes and reveled in her touch again as she kneaded the muscles of his back, shoulders and neck. He could feel her breath, warm on his neck as she worked his muscles to putty. He wished so much for the confidence and ability to simply flip her onto her back, shimmy out of his pants and drive himself inside of her.


	3. Hope For You Yet

He nearly did when she pushed her chest up against his back and reached under his arms, around his ribs to stroke and massage his chest and stomach. Her tiny little breaths caught in her throat as Ivar reached up and stroked her shoulders and neck the best he could reach from in front of her. He guided her face to his and kissed her gently this time, his fingers stroking her braid. She twisted herself gently around him, nestled her tight rear end into his lap and they melted into another kiss. As he kissed her, his fingers gently unfastened and undid her braid. She shook her hair loose and he gratefully took the opportunity to run his hands through it as he’d imagined. He chuckled and she pulled back looking questioningly at him. 

“I imagined doing exactly this this morning.” He explained. Svala cocked her head at him, ran her hands through his thick, dark hair.  
“You what? Really?”  
Ivar nodded, kissed her neck and she moaned softly.  
“I thought you were having a nightmare,” she said, taking one of his hands and guiding it up to her breast.  
“I was at first. Your gentle voice helped bring me out of it and before I knew it, I was imagining my hands all over you.” Ivar squeezed her breast gently through her dress, then traced the nipple with his thumb, enjoying how it stiffened under his touch. “I don’t think of women much,” he explained, desperate to explain to her how special she was, but also a small part of him wanting to let her know how scared he was of all this. He quickly added "It always seemed pointless." He hated admitting that, saying it out loud, but she was so tiny and made him feel so safe. She smiled though, seemed to understand and Ivar’s heart clenched in his chest. 

“Well I’ve thought of you doing this every day since I heard you were looking for a servant girl,” she offered shyly. Ivar sucked in his breath at that, simultaneously enthralled and also again, terrified he wouldn’t meet her desires.  
“Well since it was down to me and Bolverk, I don’t know if I should feel honored,” he joked and she giggled.  
“He’s older than my father!” she laughed, making a face. Ivar smiled but got more serious suddenly, holding her face gently in his hands. She closed her eyes and turned her head in his hands, kissing one of his palms. “It wasn’t just that Bolverk is old,” Svala confided then, softly. “It’s that he’s not you. I want you, Ivar,” She spoke so softly he almost couldn’t hear her, but couldn’t believe it even if she’d yelled it.  
“Yes, but I may not- I may not be able to-“ Svala put two of her fingers to his lips at that, hushing him. Then she kissed him softly over top of her fingers for a moment before moving them away and opening her mouth to kiss him more deeply. She moved off his his lap, lay on the bed beside him, propped up on one elbow and blinked coquettishly.  
“We’ll just see, won’t we? Like you said, we’ll go slowly. And we’ll see.”  
She held out her other hand and pulled him onto her.  
“Besides, I imagine there’s lots more we can do in the meantime,” she whispered, tossing her head back onto the bed as Ivar’s hands pushed up her dress. 

Ivar’s head was swimming. The feeling in his groin had gone from a small flutter to a twitch to the hint of a swelling over the course of a few hours, but now with a gloriously naked Svala under him in bed it had done more than all that. He couldn’t make love to her yet, but there was hope, shining, valiant hope on the horizon and he forced himself not to think about it, just to focus on her, focus on the sounds she was making under him. The day had gotten overcast outside and then a soft patter of rain fell. It quickly turned into a downpour, making his home darker, more secretive and he thanked the gods for it. The last thing he needed was the fear of her seeing him fail vividly in bright light or gods forbid, one of his brothers stopping by for a visit and discovering he was trying to be with a woman again. Gods, he thought at the awful idea of one of them knowing he failed again and making fun of him relentlessly. His cock shrunk back a bit at the thought and it suddenly dawned on Ivar how much his mind was a factor in this whole thing. 

His whole life he’d been sitting alongside his brothers, watching them run, watching them play, watching them learn to fight. As even a toddler he’d been taught he was fragile, less than them, weaker. And most of all, he’d felt vulnerable, a target for enemies and the weakest link in the village. As he grew older, they grew more and more sick of carting him around and he’d been left behind often. Out of desperation, out of a sense of survival, he’d focused on what he could do; think, plot and plan. As the other boys grew older and strengthened their legs, arms, fighting skills, Ivar had fortified his mind, learned and observed as much as he could about how people worked, war strategy and how to get people do do what he wanted to without them knowing it. While his adolescent brothers chased girls around, got their first secret kisses and fumblings in the woods, behind barns and in dark corners of celebrations, Ivar watched and learned. 

And now his heightened intelligence and sense of self awareness was showing him that if he wanted any chance of bedding Svala, he needed to focus on his strengths, think about how powerful he was becoming with the braces, and lastly, how safe he felt with her, how he was not a failure or a weakness in the Viking world or in hers. Just that notion in his mind had given him a surge of power and he marveled at the newly strengthened sensation in his body. Svala seemed to sense it too and her enthusiasm intensified as well. She wrapped her legs around him and mewed in his ear as he kissed her deeply and hard. He still had his pants on, still too nervous to take them off, but that fear was drifting away slowly as he focused on his strengths. And he thought with a sly grin, he had a working tongue like any of his brothers, didn’t he? 

Svala arched her back and moaned as he worked his way down her body, stopping to kiss her breasts and trailing his tongue along her stomach. He reached under her hips, cupping her ass in his hands and she spread her knees slightly, enough for him to wiggle down further and place his chest between them. He inhaled deeply, feeling himself grow dizzy at the delicious smell of her sex and woozier still when he put his mouth on her and her hips arched hard against his tongue and out of her came the sexiest sound, a guttural but still feminine growl. He kept at it, circling his tongue all over her, exploring her, using his finely honed powers of testing and observation to learn what she needed as he went. As she grew closer to her release, Ivar found himself practically overwhelmed. 

The feel of her heated skin in his hands, the musky-sweet, earthy smell and taste of her, the high pitched, whimpering sounds she was making, and finally the image of her, arched back in ecstasy as she clenched her fists and came against his face thrust Ivar into total sensory overload. Lightheaded, he wiped his mouth with the side of his forefinger and pad of his thumb and pulled himself up with his arms alongside of her. He still wasn’t completely hard, but the experience had gotten him further along than he’d ever even imagined was possible. Svala was flushed, her small breasts firm and heaving as she struggled to come down off her high. She finally opened her eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back and she curled on her side, pressing herself against him. 

“Even if I never get to fuck you, I’ll die a happy man knowing I can do that for you,” Ivar chuckled. Svala buried her face into his neck, kissing it and moaning softly.  
“I’d almost agree with you,” she said, her free hand drawing circles on his stomach. “But I’ve got hope for more with you, yet,” 

She slid a hand into the waistband of his pants and his whole body stiffened, terrified again and his excitement ratcheted down a few stops. She stopped, sensing his apprehension.  
“Ivar, it’s okay. You’re safe with me. Here, we’ll go slower. It’s okay.” Svala’s calming voice brought his fear back down a few notches and he exhaled slowly. She reached down, pulled the covers up over them and then slid his pants from him. 

He marveled at her, his heart swelling at how she knew he needed a little secrecy, a little privacy from her eyes just yet. She stayed away from his lap, tracing her fingers everywhere else, over his chest, giggling softly when he sucked in his breath as she touched his nipples, then scratching lightly with her fingernails over his stomach.  
“Close your eyes,” she commanded in a whisper and he obeyed. “Did you know you’re the first one to ever touch me?” she asked. Ivar’s eyes nearly flew open, but he willed them shut as she’d told him. “No,” he answered quickly, then realized how she might take that. “I didn’t assume- I mean I just never heard about you either way. Like I said, you’re like a little bird, quiet, unassuming, beautiful…” he drifted off not knowing how else to say what he meant. She chuckled softly. “I know. I wasn’t saying I thought you knew otherwise. I just wanted you to know I’ve always hoped it would be you and fought off anyone else. Since I was about twelve, Ivar, and first remember noticing you in the village.” She continued scratching her nails lightly over his body, everywhere but his groin, which Ivar briefly registered as being interestingly partially aroused again.


	4. Fuck Her Well

Svala continued, her lips inches from his ear. “I remember when I was about fourteen my father briefly considered marrying me off to Frode, Einer’s son and-” 

Ivar scrunched up his face, thinking of the scrawny, cowardly fisherman and she laughed. “I know right? I told my father I wouldn’t marry him for all the gold in the world and thankfully, Frode fell in love with Ingrid and my father realized he had a better chance of selling me as a servant.” She continued tracing her fingers around Ivar’s body. “How old are you?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Seventeen. Same as you.” Ivar smiled at that. 

“So as I was saying, I’d always been watching you, wanting you. I was so happy when my sister Inge ran off with Leif and I had a little privacy, had the room to myself.” Ivar kept his eyes closed, but raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” he breathed, suddenly noticing her fingers weren’t on him anymore. “Because I could do this whenever I wanted and imagine you,” she whispered. Ivar turned onto his side and watched as Svala, who had rolled onto her back, touched herself. His eyes grew wide as she shyly at first, then more boldly gave into her pleasure. In the dim light he watched up close as her face changed, as her mouth made a small, taut "o" in pleasure. He hadn’t been able to see that well when he’d had his mouth on her and he realized that the sight of her face while she was about to come was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

He crushed her mouth with a kiss and put his free hand on top of hers, mirroring her motions. She mewed and bucked slightly against their hands and he felt a full sweat cover his body as her heat transferred to him. Lying next to her was if he were standing in front of a bonfire. “I want you so badly, I’ve always imagined us together, you’re so much of a man to me, Ivar.” His name on her lips while her hands were on herself was finally his undoing. 

Every inhibition, every learned bit of insecurity disappeared and Ivar vaguely realized the full state his body was in. He was in a state of no return, of lust so strong, and completely in awe of what she was doing to his body with just her words. As if sensing somehow he was ready, Svala reached down and stroked the full, firm length of him. He marveled at the completely new feeling of his engorgement. A smile curled on her lips and he locked eyes with her. He pulled himself onto her and they slightly awkwardly, positioned themselves together. He held the sides of her face in his palms, feeling like he was dreaming again, unable to fully grasp what he was about to do. Svala smiled at him, nodded and he began to enter her. She was wet, still swollen from his mouth earlier and her hands just now, but her virginity was still an obstacle and they struggled for a moment together. Ivar was practically blind with lust for her by now, practically panting out breaths. He entered her slightly, felt the barrier of her innocence on the tip of himself and she winced and grabbed his shoulders. Dazed, he looked at her for guidance. “You’re so tight, I-” In the back of his mind he was worried now that he would hurt her. Her eyes were soft in the dim light but he sensed a deep aching for him in them and his brothers could have rushed in, laughed in his face and it would have had no effect. Svala wanted him inside her and he knew suddenly with the utmost certainty he was going to be able to give her what she wanted. What he’d been desperate for as well. 

“Ivar, please, now!” It was a breathy whisper, a desirous and forceful command somehow also begging at the same time. He sucked in a deep breath before plunging hard into her in one stroke. They both gasped and stopped for a moment, in awe and fully amazed by what they’d just done. Their bodies reacted and interacted with one another perfectly naturally, almost automatically, him slowly withdrawing himself partly before filling her once again. He’d been up on his elbows, but he collapsed onto to her, weighted down by his gratefulness and the power of how good she felt, how tightly her walls enveloped him, welcomed every stroke. She met his thrusts with her own, her hips meeting his, melding with his and rocking together in that wonderful rhythm only two people making love can have. To be able to move better though he had to get up on his elbows again, using his upper body mostly to be able to pump his hips against her. 

He covered her mouth with his again, wanting to thank her, cry, scream and come all at once. This was quite a day for firsts, he thought as the foreign, yet completely natural feeling of his first orgasm built deep in his belly. He pulled back, wanting to see what her reaction was, hoping to see her lips form that gorgeous o he’d seen earlier. It was that and more. Her chest was flushed pink under his, her head thrown back and she let out a lovely, erotic groan. He felt an odd sensation then, a rolling sensation of her innermost walls against him, like the tide on a beach. Then Svala cried out, quietly but still the loudest noise he’d ever heard out of her as she came. “Oh, Ivar…” she then purred as it coursed through her, wrapping her legs tighter against him, pulling him in deeper. Again his name on her lips was all it took. In the span of two seconds, Ivar felt like every ounce of fluid in his body, his blood, everything was being sucked down to where they were joined. He felt lightheaded, he felt all the power leave his muscles as everything drained out of him and funneled down into to his balls. They tightened up against him then to his amazement and it was all he could do to not pass out. Instead, his climax slammed into him like a thunderbolt and he spilled into Svala with one hard thrust crying out “Oh, my Bird!” in a low, gravelly howl. They shuddered against one another, bodies sweaty, heaving and completely exhausted. 

As Ivar drifted off to blissful sleep in Svala’s arms, he smiled a smile more honest and fulfilled than he’d ever smiled before. He might never walk without iron braces, he may never be the best Viking warrior, but right now that didn’t matter. He could love a woman and he could fuck her well.


	5. Good morning, Brothers!

Ivar was dreaming again. At least he thought he was but this time it wasn’t a horrible nightmare about being stuck, vulnerable on a battlefield, so he didn’t panic. This time it was all about Svala, her naked, beautiful form coming to him in the dark, crawling into bed with him, him reveling in her sweet, tight form sliding up against him slowly, the pressure of her skin against his skin a flutter at first, then a pounding force as she pushed herself harder against him, her hips, lips, fingers all over him. He moaned, not knowing if it was in the dream or in reality and not caring. She called out for him to touch her, whispering breathy and needy into his ear… Ivar. Ivar, I need you, I want you, Ivar, fuck me. He felt himself swell to full hardness and enjoyed every luscious moment of it, it such a new feeling to him. He felt a sudden, sweet slickness wondered briefly what it was. He opened his eyes into reality, waking up and realizing Svala, the beautiful perfection that was his angel, his tiny bird Svala was riding him, thrusting over his hips, him hard and deep inside her. He grunted as he woke and she sighed, rolling her hips against him. 

“Good morning my Bird,” he managed, grabbing at her hips and reveling in the feeling of them rolling under his palms. He kneaded her skin hard in his hands, making her gasp and couldn’t believe every other man in Norway, gods, in the world had been able to enjoy this feeling with their women and he felt so privileged to be feeling it now. 

All the men, his brothers, everyone who ever made fun of him before for not being a full man had no idea how lucky they were. Ivar had known the pain of wanting this and not being able to enjoy it and now that he could, he knew he was more appreciative then any other man. And he meant to thank Svala for it. Over and over again he meant to spend his whole life bringing her to the brink of ultimate pleasure and watching gleefully as she slid over the edge into ecstasy. He ran his hands over her perfect breasts, tweaking the nipples in between his fingers, smiling as she squealed. She leaned down closer to him, rolled her hips harder against him and he sucked in his breath, then grabbed the back of her neck and pulled him down to her, needing her lips on his. Right before he kissed her, he stopped, just inches from her and growled “I love fucking you, Svala.”

She bit her lip, panted hard at his exaltation and leaned in for a full kiss. He grabbed her ass with both hands in a hard smack and delighted in that being the thing that pushed her over the edge into the ultimate pleasure. She moaned, twitched, came right in front of him and he bit his lip nearly to the point of bleeding, watching her, desperate to take it all in before he lost himself. He thanked the gods for the gift of sight as he relished watching her slam herself against him, first hard and desperate, then slow and grinding as the pleasure gushed through her, ripples at first and then a full flow, a bombardment of all her senses. Her moaning slowed and then she giggled, the sound bubbling through Ivar like a river. She braced her hands on his chest and trembled against him unable to take any more pleasure. 

But Ivar wasn’t near to being done and he growled low in his chest as her movements slowed. He pulled out of her and vaguely amazed at his agility, flipped her underneath him with one arm onto her stomach. She drew in her breath sharply, still dazed and surprised by his strength and power. He glanced down at himself before entering her and couldn’t hold back a grin of pride at seeing himself fully swollen with want. Ivar pushed deeply into her from behind and delighted in the feeling of her rear end against his pelvis. He reached underneath her and arched her hips up, grabbing them so hard he felt the delicate bones flex under his fingers. Svala let out a long moan, turned her head to the side, extended her arms above her and could hardly move. Ivar pounded into her, using the little strength in his legs he did have to anchor himself into the mattress and mostly using his arms to thrust his hips against her. Ivar had one thought on his brain. Make her come again, drive her wild one last time before he lost himself. He knew she’d already taken her pleasure from him, but he wanted to fuck another one out of her, show her he could do it all himself. He felt the now-familiar pressure building in his balls and swallowed hard to hold it back. Svala was getting closer, her hips sinuously undulating beneath him, but he knew he needed step it up or he’d beat her to the finish. He reached down further and found her core, the center of all her womanhood, just above where they were joined. 

The moment he touched her there, mimicking her motions earlier, he knew he’d hit gold. She pressed her hips roughly against his hand, grinding onto his fingers. He bit his lip, tried with all his strength to hold back as her pleasure built like a kindled fire under his hand. He let her do the moving, he just pushed on the right spot and breathed “Oh Bird, yes, come for me, come all over me” into her neck. 

He cautiously thrust his hips against her, pressing himself as deep as he could manage into her and the combination of that and his fingers on her most sacred spot proved to be her magic potion. She cried out meekly at first, but then it crashed into her and grew quickly into a frenzied, uncontrollable sound. Ivar felt himself build intensely and then it all snapped before he knew what was happening. The force of it nearly knocked him sideways and he scrabbled for purchase on her, grabbing madly his hands still shoveled under her as he came hard, unable to form words, just making a desperate sound as he poured into her. The vague notion of impregnating her crossed his mind as he finished and as he struggled to catch his breath, he found himself hoping it was true. 

They lay with one another for nearly an hour afterwards, Ivar on his back, Svala’s small form curled up against him and her head settled neatly under his chin. She sighed, placed a hand on his chest and he instantly, instinctively curled his over it, and stroked it with his thumb. So tiny, he marveled in comparison to his. The skin was slightly rough since she was a servant after all, but still, softer and so different than his. He picked it up and kissed her palm, lightly. The sounds of the other villagers around them began to filter through the thin walls. Reluctantly, Svala stirred, but Ivar pulled her tighter to him. She giggled.  
“We really need to get up,” she insisted, but didn’t fight against his strong grip.  
“What we really need is land up in the hills.” Svala giggled at that and Ivar let himself laugh along with her.  
“No, really,” he continued, enjoying the fantasy of secluded privacy with her. “A small farm like my father had before he was ever Earl or anything, just a farmer, before he-“ he trailed off at that realizing that what he had with Svala was probably closer to what his father had had with Lagertha, and never had with his mother, Aslaug. From what he’d heard, Lagertha had gone barren and with only one young son, as his power grew, he needed a breeder, he needed sons to strengthen his claims. 

The young, fertile and beautiful Aslaug had taken Lagertha’s spot perfectly, giving him four sons. Well, technically only three of them really counted in the eyes of the Vikings. Although Ivar had certainly grown into a great war strategist and powerful in his own right, he would probably never be fully counted as a son worthy of the Lothbrok name and prestige. His heart sunk at that, but then he remembered that it was Ragnar himself who had refused to leave him for the wolves in the forest, Ragnar who'd taken him to England and Ragnar who knew he would one day be feared the world over. The gods had for some reason smiled upon him and look at him now. Even though he may never charge onto a battlefield with the easy speed and agility of any of the other men, he was closer to being able to hold his own and he could easily say he was the smartest, wiliest man in any room he walked into. 

There was a knock at the door then and a holler from Ubbe. Svala moved to get up and reached for her dress but Ivar stopped her.  
“Come in, Ubbe!” Ivar crowed from bed proudly. He pulled himself to a sitting position with his back against the wall and Svala stayed curled halfway against him, but pulled the covers higher up. Ubbe walked in and Ivar was happy to see Hvitserk on his heels. They walked through the kitchen and as they came into the doorway of the bedroom, you could have knocked them over with a slight breeze when they saw Ivar in bed with Svala. They both gaped momentarily and Ivar beamed cockily. 

“Good morning, brothers!”  
Ubbe was the first to smile, first more of a guffaw from the shock, but then it seemed to Ivar, in genuine appreciation and happiness for his little brother. He leaned an arm against the doorway, high above his head, peered in and nodded appreciatively. Hvitserk seemed more doubtful, narrowing his eyes at the couple and crossing his arms, but kept quiet. 

“We need to talk, Ivar. Some of the men who support us are getting restless," Ubbe ventured.  
“Yes, yes of course. Do you want to talk here?” Ivar asked. He slipped his arm from under Svala and she reached for her dress on the ground. She paused for a moment, unsure of her place. As a slave, a servant, she wasn’t afforded the luxury of modesty around Ubbe and Hvitserk, but if she were Ivar’s respected love, possibly even to be his wife, the men would honor her by averting their eyes. Everyone paused, waiting for Ivar to make the call. Ubbe turned his eyes down and began to shift to to enter the kitchen before Ivar said a word though. Svala realized his wife Margrethe had been just like her and she had heard gossip that before they were married, out of tenderness, he’d challenged anyone who referred to her as a slave and thought they could use her as they pleased. But then strangely, knowing Hvitserk was in love with her as well, Ubbe had allowed him to share her on their wedding night, and beyond. 

The idea horrified Svala. She didn't dare tell him yet but she was so in love with Ivar and would drown herself before sleeping with one of his brothers or any other man for that matter. Come to think of it, she didn't like the way Hvitserk was looking at her now- he seemed hopeful Ivar would treat her more like a servant and he'd get to see her naked. Thankfully, to her relief and making her heart soar, Ivar reached over and grabbed the dress from her, helped slip it over her head while shielding her breasts from his brothers. Ubbe had already respectfully turned but Svala did notice Hvitserk's dejected look as he reluctantly looked away. She was glad Ivar hadn't seen it though. She knew from three weeks in his house he had a wicked temper and he'd already killed one disrespectful brother. She imagined now with what miraculous thing had happened between them last night, he'd kill Hvitserk as easily and quickly as he'd killed Sigurd if Hvitserk dared cross that line with her. 

Svala quickly started a fire and fixed her love a plate of food and drinks for all the men, then she hurried to find something to do outside and leave them to their talk.


	6. An Ear for a Wife

The marketplace was in full swing and Svala quickly perused the stalls, purchasing some meat and vegetables for their next few meals. Her heart leapt at the idea of dining with Ivar as his equal and she wondered how this was all going to play out. He might have just been showing off for his brothers this morning, he might tire of her, she thought sadly. 

If the magic her touch had on him last night proved to not be unique to her, he might go out and make up for lost time and fuck other women. She knew from watching other servants, other women in her family that men enjoyed variety and frequent sex. Even a respected wife could be tossed aside. Just look at even Ivar's father's first marriage. He was deeply in love with Lagertha but power required heirs and it hadn't taken him long to seek out other women and impregnate one of them numerous times. At the thought, Svala's hands flew suddenly to her lower abdomen, and she imagined her womb, still heavy and warm with Ivar's seed from this morning, growing and stretching with their child. She felt her cheeks flush and was jolted back into reality by the sound of her sister's voice calling her name. 

"Inge!" She exclaimed back, excited. She hadn’t seen her sister much in the last few months. Her sister embraced her and it was then that Svala noticed her sister's growing belly.  
“Oh Inge! How wonderful." Her sister smiled, looked down and rubbed her belly lovingly. Then she looked up and cocked her head at her little sister. 

"And my sweet Svala, what is going on with you? How is it at that horrible Ivar's home? I can't believe you agreed to work for him. He's not cruel to you is he, sister? I could get father or Lief to come and-" Svala stopped her sister with a hand on her arm. "No, no Inge. He's nice actually, he isn't anything like everyone thinks..." 

Inge watched as Svala's eyes glazed over and she chuckled. Svala's cheeks burned with embarrassment. "What?" She peeped like well, a small bird. The thought of Ivar calling her that last night as he came, as he emptied himself into her made a warmer flush paint her cheek and Inge softened, reaching out and squeezing her sister's hand. "Oh Svala, I'm happy for you. I hope he returns your love, but now I see what that look on your face was when I first saw you. You’ve fallen in love with him.”  
Svala nodded shyly. "Is it that obvious?" She asked, blushing again. Inge chuckled. "Well certainly to a sister, yes. Don't worry, I don't think the whole village knows yet." Inge smiled warmly and pulled her sister's arm. "Here, lets shop together and catch up." They laced their arms together and walked towards the fish stand. 

Ivar casually bit into the bread and dried fish Svala had laid out for him, pretending to be oblivious to his brothers' intent stares. As he raised the horn cup to his lips however, he noticed them both leaning back in their seats, eyebrows raised, expectant.  
"What?" Ivar asked coyly. "So, what are the men saying? What's the word amongst them as to what they think we should do about Lagertha?" Ubbe chuckled at that, leaned forward. "Oh no brother, that can wait." Ivar raised his eyebrows, shifted his glance from Hvitserk to Ubbe and back again, then smiled slyly. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Did you fuck her?" Hvitserk spit out. "Can you fuck her?" He clarified questioningly, more than a hint of doubt in his tone. Ivar stood slowly, his braces holding his weight and took two steps towards Hvitserk, who flinched and stepped back instinctively, making Ivar smile at his newfound power.

"Tell me, Hvitserk. A month ago, could I walk?" Hvitserk furrowed his brow at Ivar's question. Ivar repeated it, firmly, emphasizing each word. "Could. I. Walk?" 

Hvitserk shook his head. Ivar raised his eyebrows, leaned in, hands on the table, expectant.  
"No, no Ivar. A month ago you couldn't walk." Hvitserk nearly rolled his eyes.  
Ivar pounded the table triumphantly. "That's right. I couldn't walk. And when I tried to fuck, I failed at that too... until now. Until last night." Ubbe stood up and reached across the table, clapped Ivar on the shoulder.  
"That's amazing, Ivar! Nicely done." Ubbe took a long swig of his ale and then toasted his brother.  
“To Ivar!” Then he smiled wolfishly. 

“So, tell us. How was she?” 

A few days later, Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe met with a few of then men to strategize at Ubbe’s house. Margrethe quickly scuttled away when she saw Ivar enter but he barely noticed her. As more and more ale was drunk, the talk was less of a particular woman they wanted to kill and more of women they had conquered in their beds.  
“Who was your first woman, Ubbe?” Bjarke asked, patting him on the shoulder. Ubbe scrunched his face up like he was deep in thought. 

The men laughed. “What, so many, you can’t remember?” Bjarke chuckled, but then Hagen laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and said “He’s trying to think of how to tell you it was your little sister, Ingrid!” 

The men erupted with laughter and Bjarke looked surprised, but then laughed along with the others and toasted Ubbe. Ubbe smiled and shrugged at him apologetically. 

Kjell held up a hand then, looked sorry for Ivar and spoke up. “We should talk of something else, friends.” Ivar smiled, took a sly sip of his drink.  
“Because of Ivar?” Ubbe said and then men got quiet, out of respect but also looked down at their feet awkwardly. Ubbe smacked his cup down triumphantly. Ivar grinned.  
“No! We should drink more. We need to celebrate him. He has bedded a woman! I witnessed it just a few days ago, came by in the morning and caught him with a very satisfied lady.” 

Ubbe held his cup out towards Ivar and smiled. The men all turned and looked with shock and awe at Ivar, who felt like he could burst with pride. “Skal!” One of them shouted and they all repeated, then drank heartily. Those closest to Ivar pounded him on the back. Ivar looked at Hvitserk who was leaning against a beam, arms crossed, looking just as sulky and doubtful as he had that morning at Ivar’s. Ivar looked sideways at him. “Aren’t you happy for me, brother?” he asked him. Hvitserk narrowed his eyes, but then felt the looks of all the men on him and smiled like a fox. “Of course, Brother.” His smile was tight and forced. Ivar narrowed his eyes and Ubbe shook his head. The rest of the men returned to their banter and the night went on. Ubbe leans into Ivar, speaks low. “Don’t worry about Hvitserk. He’s jealous you’re getting good on your feet with the sword. Let’s meet tomorrow and you can show me what you can do.” Ivar nods and they clink their cups together. Hvitzerk has heard the plan, but pretends not to have noticed, slyly drinking from his cup. 

Ubbe’s sword cut the air and clanged against Ivar's. Ivar dodged as best he could to the left, struck back. "Yes! Yes, that's it little brother!" Ubbe cheered. They continued to spar, Ivar impressing Ubbe with nearly every move. Finally, exhausted, Ivar falters and falls. Ubbe collapses onto the grass with him, chuckling happily. “You are getting good, brother. You still need practice on these-“ Ubbe clangs his sword on Ivar’s braces, but turns and smiles at him. Ivar looks over, chest heaving and smiles back. “Thank you, Ubbe.” 

Ubbe sat up, pulls his knees up to his chest. “Your legs will never be quite as nimble or fast, though. You know that.” Ivar nods. “That just means I’ll have to be faster and deadlier with the sword. Kill them on the first strike.” Ivar narrows his eyes at Ubbe above him. Ubbe nods. “Yes. You won’t survive in a long battle, that’s for sure. You’ll need to slay them before they even have a chance.” Ubbe spits into the grass and Ivar looks pensive at the thought. “Well, maybe one or two chances…” he says jokingly, and Ubbe laughs amicably along with him but then Ivar stops suddenly, his eyes flashing with anger. "Where is Hvitserk?” His voice is low and even, but tinged with sharp fury. Ubbe shrugs at him casually, then realizes at the same moment where Hvitserk is. Ivar struggles to his feet and charges through the meadow. Ubbe pounds his fist into the grass beside him. “Damn it, Hvitzerk!” he curses under his breath as he gets up and runs after Ivar. 

Svala pulls a loaf of perfectly browned bread out of the hearth oven on a long board and places it on the table, looking pleased with herself. She wipes her hands on her apron and turns back to stir the stew bubbling over the fire. There is three slow knocks at the door and she turns, curious. “Who is it?” she calls. The door opens without her granting entrance and she stealthily grabs the knife off the table that was next to the bread. Hvitserk enters, smiles. 

"Ivar's not here.” Svala asks, holding the knife in the folds of her dress. Hvitserk takes a few steps towards her, eyes lustily taking account of her form. Svala takes a few steps back, gets the table between them. Hvitserk smiles again, holds his hands up to try to show her his intentions are innocent.  
“Svala. I’m just here to say hello.” Svala eyes him, her shoulders relax, and she takes a deep, calming breath, but she doesn’t drop her guard entirely.  
“Ivar will be back soon he just stepped out to visit Bjarke, just next door.” She narrows her eyes. 

“You really should leave, Hvitserk. He wouldn’t like finding you here.” Hvitserk steps slowly, carefully towards her, around the table and soon she realizes she has no good escape, up against the corner of the kitchen. 

“No, Svala,” Hvitzerk snarls, “he’s not at Bjarke’s. He’s all the way in the meadow with Ubbe. They’ll be gone most of the morning.” 

Svala’s eyes widen at that. “Well he wouldn’t like you being here anyway, not alone with me.” Her grip tightens on the knife. Hvitserk takes another step towards her and she presses her back hard against the back wall of the kitchen.

“I think I know my brother better than you, woman. And I think he wouldn’t appreciate his slave treating his brother so rudely.” He lunges for her, manages to grab her arm and pulls her roughly onto the table, the bread flying off and landing in the dirt. 

He reaches behind her, grabs both arms and pins them hard, under her, the knife useless to her now. She tries to scream, but he slaps her. “Try that again and I’ll kill you.” Svala is terrified and quiets, whimpering, struggling to free her arms. “Hold still, you bitch!” Svala sobs in pain as Hvitserk pulls up her dress over her hips, exposing her entirely. He struggles to pin her down with his hips, one arm across her chest and his other hand fumbling in his pants. Svala closes her eyes, still struggling against him, but submitting to what seems the inevitable, when Ivar bursts through the door.

“Ha!” He cries out in a rage, unable to form words as he launches himself through the door and around the table using mostly his arms. Hvitserk, shocked, releases his grip and Svala wiggles her arm out from underneath and swiftly presses the knife tip into his neck, the sharp edge just barely breaking the skin above his jugular. He and Ivar both freeze, knowing she is able to kill him with the slightest movement. Ubbe reaches the door just then and stops, his eyes wide at the scene in front of him. “Svala!” He cries, but she is deaf to him or anything else in the room, her eyes focusing on the knife tip. Hvitzerk’s eyes widen. He glances over to Ubbe pleading for help, but Ubbe shakes his head. Ivar lunges, grabbing the knife from Svala, but then loses his footing, and confused, she thinks he is about to stab her with it. She shrieks and steps back and Ubbe and Hvitserk both lunge, thinking too he will kill her. 

“No!” Hvitserk shouts and with Hvitserk focused on Svala, Ivar grabs him by the shirt, pins him to the table and swiftly cuts off his right ear. Hvitserk screams, grabs the side of his head as Svala and Ubbe gape at them. 

Ivar levels the knife at Hvitserk’s face. “I don’t want to kill a brother again, Hvitserk. But if I ever see you here with Svala again, fuck, if I ever see you so much as look at her, I swear to you I will slice off your cock and then slit your throat. She is to be my wife and You. Will. Honor. Us.” 

Svala’s eyes pop at the word wife but she’s too much in shock to register the gravity of his claim. Ivar steps back, still with the knife raised and Hvitserk slides out from under him, falling to his knees in a daze, blood pouring down his cheek under his hand. Ubbe looks at Ivar with intense surprise, but also immense respect. He grabs Hvitserk and helps him out the door.


	7. Slow Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one of this story. :) Short, but sweet.

Ubbe and Hvitserk leave a now sobbing Svala and a breathlessly angry Ivar. He grabs the ear off the table and tosses it into the fire. It makes a revolting hiss and he curls his lip at it. 

Svala falls to the floor at his feet and he watches as she picks up the dirty loaf of fresh bread. She sobs. “The bread. I- I-“ Ivar’s eyes are tender for a moment, but he picks her up under the arms and takes the bread from her. 

She sniffles as he places it on the table again. He grabs Svala hard by the shoulders and she gasps. “Ivar, I- I didn’t… he just barged in. I was so scar-“ Ivar crushes her mouth with a kiss, silencing her. It’s not loving, it’s claiming her. 

As he pulls away, Svala sniffles again, understanding, grateful he’s not angry with her, but she trembles in his grasp, unsure of what he’ll do. Ivar pushes her back onto the table and forces up her dress. This time, Svala is just as terrified, but is willing and submits. She sucks in her breath as Ivar grabs her arms and holds them high above her head by the wrists. He fumbles a moment, needing to leave the braces on but also free himself from his pants. He manages quickly to shimmy them down enough and Svala gasps as he thrusts hard into her. She cries out uncontrollably in shock at his roughness and Ivar covers her mouth with his free hand. He doesn’t kiss her, watches her face as she squeezes her eyes shut.   
“You. Are. Mine, Svala.” He cries out, claiming her, spitting out each word with a matching thrust .

“Look at me, damn it!” he cries. She nods, obliges, tears forming at the edges of her eyes, and mumbles “yes” under his hand. He moves his hand and she sobs out “Always. I’m yours always, Ivar.” 

Ivar climaxes quickly with vigor, then pulls out, fastens his pants and stalks out the door. He slams it behind him and Svala sobs, pulls her dress down and slides off the table. She looks around at a loss for what to do, then notices the loaf of bread. She cradles it against her chest, slips to the floor, and weeps. 

She’s sleeping when Ivar returns hours later. 

He lights a small oil lamp and settles onto the bed beside her. She’s obviously cried herself to sleep, her eyes puffy and face red. He looks pretty drunk, but reaches out and strokes her hair. She stirs at his touch and wakes. 

“Where have you been?” she asks and he leans down to kiss her temple gently. 

“I went and got very drunk at Bjark’s.” He smiles. “But not too drunk.” 

She smiles tenderly at him, still lying on her stomach. He reaches down and tries to unfasten his braces.   
“These are hard to deal with when I’m sober…” Svala giggles and reaches over to help him.   
Once he’s rid of them, he reaches for her, presses himself tentatively against her.   
“Svala, I’m sorry for earlier, I-“ She hushes him.   
“No, Ivar. It’s okay, You needed to. I understand.” He smiles, but shakes his head.   
“No, let me get this out. Svala, I’ve never felt anything with a woman like I do with you. I never let myself because I figured it was a lost cause. I’ve been told every day for as long as I can remember, since I was what, three years old that I was different. But then made to feel from my father that I was special that I had some sort of destiny to be legendary, but still made to feel by everyone else that I was less, a cripple, never a true Viking. I assumed somehow those were intertwined. I thought I couldn’t have greatness without the curse so I focused on building other strengths, never pursued any women. Until Margreth. My brothers all had fucked her and I figured she was some sort of gift from the gods, like we were all four supposed to be with her somehow, so I let myself gather the courage to try and it was awful. She humiliated me, and then told my brothers." 

He looked down then, ashamed and Svala reached out, stroked his face. He grabbed her hand, held it tight to his cheek. 

"After that I resigned myself again to be chaste, to always want women but never get them. I never let thoughts of them linger more than a moment, else I would go insane. But then you came along and I couldn’t stop myself. Fantasies of being with you flooded my brain and a few mornings ago when I let myself enjoy one, I felt the first start of... " he trailed off, glanced downward. Svala smiled at that, leaned in and kissed him. 

“And then it turned out you’d been feeling it too and well….” He trailed off, kissed her again, pulled her closer to him as he lay on his side. “I think I can have both, you know? I think I can still fulfill the destiny my father saw for me, the reason the gods had him save me that morning he brought me out to the woods, with every intention leaving me there… and have you.” Svala sighed as they pulled each other close and kissed deeply. "And if I can't have both, I'll settle for just you." He joked and she threw her head back in laughter. 

Ivar took the opportunity to nestle his lips in her cleavage. Her laughter turned to ecstatic sighs and he ran his hands over her naked body, but then she stopped him. 

“Ivar, did you mean what you said earlier?” Ivar smirked. “Yes. I will cut off Hvitserk’s cock and slit his throat if he ever comes near you again.” 

He smiled and Svala laughed. “You know what I mean.” Ivar smiled, kissed her. “Yes. I mean to marry you. You are mine, Svala. I will die without you. Please say yes.” He grabbed her free hand and kissed it and looked up at her with such tenderness that she melted in his gaze. “Yes. Ivar. yes. I’ve been yours since I first saw you.” They melted into one another at that, he slid under the covers and she pulled his shirt from him as they kissed. Ivar shimmied out of his pants, Svala opened herself to him and he buried himself in her. He made slow work of making love to his dear, sweet Bird and she to him.


End file.
